Soldiers Christmas Poem

Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone, in a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone. I had come down the chimney with presents to give, and to see just who in this home did live. I looked all about, a strange sight I did see, no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree. no stockings by mantle, just boots filled with sand, on the wall hung pictures of far distant lands. With medals and badges, awards of all kinds, a sober thought came through my mind. For this house was different, it was dark and dreary, I found the home a soldier, once I could see clearly. The soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone, curled up on the floor in this one bedroom home. The face was so gentle, the room in such disorder,not how I pictured a United States soldier. Was this the hero of whom I'd just read? curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed? I realized the families that I saw this night, owed their lives to these soldiers who were willing to fight. Soon round the world, the children would play, and grown ups would celebrate a bright Christmas day. They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year, because of the soldiers, like the one lying here. I couldn't help wonder how many lay alone,on a cold Christmas eve in a land far from home. The very thought brought a tear to my eye, I dropped to my knees and started to cry. The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice “Santa don't cry, this life is my choice; I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more, my life is my god, my country, my corps.” The soldier rolled over and drifted to sleep, I couldn't control it, I continued to weep. I kept watch for hours, so silent and still and we both shivered from the cold night's chill. I didn't want to leave on that cold, dark,night,this guardian of honor so willing to fight. Then the soldier rolled over, with a voice soft and pure, whispered, “carry on Santa, it's Christmas day, all is secure.” One look at my watch, and I knew he was right. “Merry Christmas my friend, and to all a good night.”